


Junk of the Heart

by morgueling



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Time Writing Smut!, PWP, Sherlolly - Freeform, this was fun to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:00:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1607690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgueling/pseuds/morgueling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and Molly go to a party. Sexiness ensues. Basically just PWP with a fluffy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Junk of the Heart

  “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you flirting.”

  With Sherlock placing sucking kisses all the way down her neck, it takes Molly a moment or two before she can reply.

  “I wasn’t flirting.”

  “Yes, you were.”

  “I was _not_. I was trying to get your attention. I guess it worked.”

  He pulls back, one hand still on her hip, the other buried in her hair. “I guess it did.”

\---

  When he’d first asked her, she hadn’t known what to say. They’d barely been together for three months and there he was, asking if she’d accompany him to one of his brother’s annual dinner parties.

  “It’s not for a case, is it?” She asks him nervously. Sherlock rolls his eyes at her.

  “Of course not. I’m forced to attend at least one of the awful events each year. I thought it might be far more pleasant with your company.”

  Molly had agreed, blushing profusely when the time came to depart for the venue and Sherlock had told her how beautiful she looked. In truth, it was mostly due to the new dress he’d had sent over to her flat – figure hugging red silk, with a low draped back and a pair of red heels worth more than her monthly wage packet. He’d even had someone do her hair and makeup, and Molly had to agree with him – she looked beautiful.

  They’d been picked up by a sleek black car, which had taken them to the grandest hotel Molly had ever seen. Crystal chandeliers hung from every ceiling, highlighting the gold accented décor. Sherlock had even surprised her by booking them a room for the night, having had a change of clothes packed and taken to the suite earlier in the evening.

  The party was full of famous faces – politicians and movie stars and even royalty – but with Sherlock on her arm, Molly felt right at home. He’d dressed in a gorgeous suit (even more expensive than his usual clothes) with a red tie to match her dress. His curls were styled, partly slicked back with one or two still bouncing over his forehead. In short, he looked good enough to eat.

  When the dancing began, it all changed. One minute she was swaying slowly with Sherlock, the next she was whisked away by a handsome man that she recognised vaguely from one of the soaps on TV. They danced for a while, but she was painfully aware of Sherlock talking to someone else.

  She watched as the woman with Sherlock (tall, blonde and classically beautiful) leaned in, laying one hand lightly on Sherlock’s arm. He listened intently to what she was saying, and Molly’s eyes narrowed when he threw his head back and laughed.

  She decided that if Sherlock was going to have some fun, then so was she. She lost track of the amount of men who offered her drinks and dances, but she knew it was far more than she’d thank herself for the next day.

  At some point (while she was bopping to some ridiculous club tune surrounded by half the cast of Casualty) Sherlock reappeared, without the blonde woman. He sidled up to his girlfriend, leaning in close and growling, “We need to talk. In the hallway.”

  She had followed him out of the main hall, down the empty hallway and into the lift at the end. As soon as the doors had shut, his lips were on hers, one hand tangling itself in her neatly styled hair and the other pulling her tight against him.

  “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you flirting.”

\---

  She hears the sound of the doors opening and Sherlock steps back almost immediately. Seeing the hallway is empty, he grabs her hand and drags her towards one of the doors, fumbling in his pocket for the room key. When they’re in, he slams the door shut and whirls her around to press her against it.

  “You’ve got my full attention now.” He whispers, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth. She lets out a small sigh, and he rewards her by pressing further against her, grinding his hips against hers. Molly whimpers into his mouth, lifting one leg to wrap around his hip. He heaves her into his arms, winding the other leg around him as he stumbles towards the bed.

  They drop heavily onto the pile of soft quilts, and Sherlock resumes the work he had begun in the elevator. He covers her completely, sucking red marks into the skin of her neck. Her legs are still wrapped around his waist, allowing him to grind himself against her core, one hand on the bed keeping himself steady. Molly pushes him upright with one hand on his chest, gesturing for him to lay down as she slides off the bed.

  His legs dangle over the edge as she works his trousers and underwear off, hands skimming his thighs lightly before moving exactly where he wants them to be. She takes his cock in her hand, pressing soft kisses to the head before taking it in her mouth.

  “Fuck, Molly-“ Sherlock’s hips lift clear off the bed, one hand grasping blindly for her hair and winding itself into her curls. He guides the pace as she bobs her head, twirling her tongue in a way that makes him think this will end far too soon for his liking.

  “Molly, stop. Unless you want to finish this night unsatisfied, you’re going to need to stop… whatever that was you were doing.”

  Molly releases him, standing up with a smirk on her lips. “You think you can satisfy me, Mr. Holmes?”

  “I don’t think, Miss Hooper, I know.” He stands up too, towering over her small frame. She undoes the buttons of his shirt slowly and surely, sliding it off his shoulders before turning and gesturing for him to unzip her dress. The low back meant the zip started just above her backside, giving Sherlock an excuse to cup her arse in his hands before letting the silk drop to the floor. She’s wearing nothing but sheer red lace, barely covering her yet still hiding far too much for Sherlock’s taste. He unhooks the bra, throwing it somewhere over his shoulder, and pushes her knickers over her hips. She steps out of them, kicking them to the side and pushing him back on the bed.

  “You can leave those on.” Sherlock says, admiring the sheer stockings that come up to her mid-thigh.

  “I was planning to.” She swings one leg over his so she’s straddling his knees. With one hand on his neck, she leans in and kisses him again. Their tongues slide against each other easily and naturally, and it’s barely minutes before she’s rocking against him. Sherlock’s beautiful hands wind their way down her back, over her thighs (skimming the lace tops of her stockings) and find their way quickly to her centre.

  He circles her clit with his thumb, one finger from the other hand sliding its way inside her with no resistance. A few minutes later, with the addition of another digit and Sherlock’s mouth on her breast, Molly is gasping for air. She rocks her hips in time to the pace he sets, and it’s not long before she comes undone, crying Sherlock’s name against the skin of his neck.

  He lets her breathe for a few moments, painfully aware of his erection and the way she’s pressing against it. Then he feels a wet sensation against his fingertips; Molly is sucking her juices from them, her eyes full of lust.

  Without warning he rolls, guiding her so she’s on her stomach in the centre of the bed and he’s covering her. She understands what he’s trying to achieve, bringing herself onto her hands and knees and turning her head to watch him.

  “Are you ready?” he asks, far more softly than she’d expected. She nods, wiggling her arse against him for extra reassurance.

  He takes his cock in hand, running it the length of her slit before slowly entering her. They both let out groans as he sinks in to the hilt, Sherlock running a hand consolingly from her shoulder blades to the top of her arse.

  He starts a steady pace, slow on the way out and faster on the inward thrust, but it’s not long before he starts to lose rhythm. Molly is letting out soft whines with each thrust, head on the mattress and her hands twisted in the expensive sheets. Sherlock leans down to kiss her shoulders and she turns her head, rooting for his mouth. Their lips meet and Sherlock’s hips slow ever so slightly. The angle isn’t working for him, and Molly seems to be straining for her pleasure too.

  Pulling out, he allows her to push him onto his back again, watching her closely as she straddles him and lines his cock up with her entrance once more. As she slides down his length, he realises that this is what he’d been after. Molly riding him, her pussy tight around his length with her small hands on his chest.

  She drops her head back with a particularly loud groan, and Sherlock bolts upright, mouth on her neck in seconds. Molly’s arms wrap themselves tightly around his shoulders, her teeth finding his earlobe and suckling on it.

  He can feel that they’re both close, so he takes her hips in his hands and helps her set a faster pace. She’s crying out, not bothering to hold anything back as he pounds into her.

  “Sherlock, I’m- _oh God_ -“ Molly gasps, working her hips faster as her orgasm hits. Sherlock feels her clenching around him, and the sounds of her breathy moans partnered with the wet slapping of their skin means it’s only moments before he comes too. He feels his release rush from him, filling her and slicking the way for the last few pumps of his hips before they collapse on their sides on the bed, breathing hard.

  After a few minutes of recovery, Molly looks at him and smiles.

  “Are you going to do this every time you think I’m flirting with someone else?”

  Sherlock laughs. “Perhaps.”

  “I think I’ll flirt with other people more often then.”

  Sherlock drags her closer kissing her softly and slowly. Pushing a lock of hair out of her face, he cups her cheek gently.

  “As long as they know that you’re mine. And that I love you far more than any of them could ever wish to.”

  Molly tucks her head under his chin, stroking his chest with her thumb.

  “It doesn’t matter if they know it, because I do. And I hope you know that you’re mine as well.”

  Her eyelids are beginning to droop, but she doesn’t miss the gentle kiss pressed to her slightly damp forehead. As her breathing slows and she begins to nod off, she smiles to herself, safe in the knowledge that she loves, and is loved by the world’s only consulting detective.


End file.
